


The Raven Flown

by pqlaertes



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: F/M, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pqlaertes/pseuds/pqlaertes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Janette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Raven Flown

Knowing his limits, he kissed her cheek, her forehead at the corner, at the hairline, and the hair too, holding her close, pressing her warmth against him, tenderly, tenderly. Later, his shirt will smell of formaline and blood; her smell, his sweat.

 

* * *

There are no limits. Pressing her into the bar with his weight he strokes her hips. No words before the rending. She whispers his name, choking perhaps from passion, perhaps from the pressure on her throat. Her arms, white, go up and back to caress his hair. He grasps her wrists, pulling them further back, pulling them down. Arching her. Stretching her. She whimpers.

 

* * *

He sat her on the floor before him and brushed her hair gently, ignoring her complaints. She was right; when he finished brushing it out it was a huge soft cloud around her face. He laughed and she hit him lightly on the thigh with the hairbrush, then reached up, hugging him backwards awkwardly. When he pulled back on her arms just a little bit she made a sound of annoyance and pain, wincing. Feeling low and cruel he kissed her hair again.

 

* * *

The dress is tight, finally he rips out the side seams, unable to push it up over her hips. She growls in annoyance, a sound that turns into a harsh sexual gasp as his hands slide around her thighs, between the flaps of torn velvet, and then pull her legs forcefully apart. In the mirror he sees the ghost-image, what is left of their reflections; his hair is wild and golden, he looks like a lion about to mount. But she looks like no lioness. Nothing on this earth has ever been so perfect or so beautiful.

He is a beast. She is a goddess.

 

* * *

Later, watching a Thin Man movie, he tugged her into his lap. There was a moment of awkward surprise, and then she cuddled close, her cheek sweetly next to his. After a while she wiggled away, stretching out to put her head on his thigh.

Bored with the movie, she tickled him behind the knee, and perhaps mistook his gasp, his jerk, for playfulness.

Knowing he had the control, he pushed her down to the floor.

She told him it was unfair, she couldn't wrestle properly with him. He let her roll them so that she was on top. Even the pressure of her on him, the sight of her breasts, moving and soft when she laughed was bearable. He had the control.

 

* * *

He slides in, teasing, pulls back, thrusts again. He can never be savage with her for long. The clawing need has eased now, and he only wants dark gentleness.

_Love you love you loveyou always loveyou_

_alwaysloveyou._

He pulls out of her and turns her to face him, kissing the tops of her breasts, her shoulders, presses his face against her belly through the velvet. He offers his neck to her and a sob wrenches out as her fangs puncture and his blood spurts into her mouth. She pushes him gently to the floor, easing her legs around him. Only the slightest trickle of his blood escapes her mouth.

Delicately, exquisitely, she impales herself on him, her mouth finally leaving his neck to cry out softly as she sinks down his length.

 

* * *

At some point he crossed the line, and his arms around her body began stroking, touching. She didn't realize it yet, but he felt it himself and froze. 'Nick?' that innocence she has never lost.

He looked away.

She slid off him and lay close by, one leg still across his thighs. Her hand found his and shyly took it. After a long moment he pulled her fingers to his mouth and kissed them, almost not thinking of the vein there in her wrists, of the sounds she might make.

 

* * *

Their eyes, glowing, hellfire colored, meet. She sees the tears. 'Nicolah?' the accent she has never lost.

He needs no words to tell her. Joyfully, perfectly, she moves on him.

_alwaysloveyoualwaysloveyoualwaysloveyou._

_neverleave._

_love._

_you._

She drives down on him, hot, shocking his nerves with deadly sweetness. Her mouth opens wide in delight and he feels a first ripple of her orgasm around him. She closes her blue eyes and moves slow-slow quick-quick. A goddess above him in a torn velvet dress.

He moves his hips, thrusting upward gently.

" _Ni---co---laah_." a sharp jolt goes through him with each syllable. And then from the base of his cock to the tip a flower made of fire blossoms, bell-shaped and ineffably lovely. He grasps her and pulls her down to him, clinging until he can stand to be himself again.

 

* * *

She fell asleep on the floor at about 1am, and he watched her, the little kittenish movements of her sleeping. Instinctively and thoughtlessly, he put his hand on her thigh and moved it upwards, stroking her gently through the thin stretchy material of the leggings. She moaned sleepily and he snatched himself away in a great wince of movement.

Feeling like a rapist, a sick pitiful thing, he covered her with blankets and retreated to his wide cold bed. The faintest scent of her on his fingers made him toss and turn all night, and both woke stiff and frustrated.

 

* * *

She is kissing his tears away, all his comfort, all his love in this world, her flesh still slick and warm around him. He could stay like this forever. He could stay like this forever.

Except that she is somewhere out there.

And she has left him alone.

When he thinks of her now it is only this: that perhaps he must be a beast to everyone but his goddess.

_alwaysloveyou. alwaysloveyou. ohjanetteiloveyou._

 

 

_=1995=  
_


End file.
